A Few Holmes Truths
by Thorn17
Summary: John used to be fairly content with a life including both Holmes brothers, living with one whilst accepting that he would occasionally be kidnapped by the other. But when Sherlock starts acting strangely because of something Mycroft said, John begins to wonder if the elder Holmes has finally convinced the younger that John emotionally compromises him, and should be left behind.
1. Chapter 1

**Contents of phone very satisfactory. Many thanks. MH**

My pleasure, "Ice `Man". SH

**Don't start. MH**

Who was the lucky person? SH

**To whom are you referring? MH**

Whoever it was that means that you and I cannot share the nickname that Moriarty assigned me. SH

**Oh, that. I don't think that's important, do you? MH**

I've just stopped Irene Adler for you. Call it my reward. SH

**I have an alternative reward for you. A new case has presented itself for you, Sherlock. MH**

What is it? SH

**A threat to assassinate someone of importance to my client. MH**

Not interested. Don't bother me with such trivia again. SH

**Now, now, dear brother. It'll stop the boredom. MH**

Quite frankly, a conversation with Anderson sounds more thrilling than this "new case". Shouldn't you be doing something of so-called importance, rather than irritating me? SH

**You're my brother. You are important. MH**

Now, now, let's not get sentimental. SH

**Wouldn't dream of it. After all, you have John for that. MH**

What do you mean? SH

**You know exactly what I mean. When are you both going to admit it to yourselves? MH**

_Hi Mycroft, sorry to interrupt your argument with Sherlock - I can tell he's texting you because he keeps throwing things at the wall in frustration - but can you stop provoking him please, whatever it is you're arguing about? We've only got so many teacups, and then I think he'll start throwing the plates next! Thanks, John._

**Don't get John to fight your battles for you. MH**

I never would. I'd never let anything happen to him. SH

**That wasn't really what I said, was it Sherlock? Though it has provided me with valuable insight into the answer to another question... MH**

**Shall I take your silence to be an acknowledgement of defeat? Could we possibly cease these childish arguments now? MH**

How's the diet? SH

**I'll take that as a 'no'. MH**


	2. Chapter 2

"What was all that about?" asked John, dodging the debris from the latest item Sherlock had thrown at the wall.

Sherlock looked up from his phone. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've managed to break every single teacup and plate that we owned." John gestured towards the broken crockery that littered the floor. "I presume Mycroft was being particularly irritating, but what were you arguing about this time?"

"It doesn't matter. Not important." Sherlock was lying, and hoped that John was too preoccupied with the shattered crockery to notice.

"Well, you can tell him that he'll be paying for some new crockery."

A wry smile formed on Sherlock's face. His lie had gone undetected. "Mycroft practically is the British Government. I'm sure that he can stretch to buying a new set of crockery."

John waited a while expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to offer to pick some of this mess up, seeing as it was you that made it in the first place?"

Sherlock stood, causing John to hope that he had managed to improve the detective's manners in some small way since he had moved in. John was sick of tidying up after Sherlock. If Sherlock _asked _him to, he wouldn't mind, but it was the fact that Sherlock _assumed _John would do it for him that really irritated him. "No, I'm going out."

John's hopes faded rapidly. Same old Sherlock, then. "Out? Where?"

"To see my brother." Sherlock began to put his coat and scarf on.

"Haven't you two communicated enough already tonight?" John was getting worried for the safety of their other breakable possessions. He was tempted to move the skull from the mantelpiece, but thought the better of it. Sherlock would never smash that skull. He probably cared about it more than he cared about John.

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be going to see him. I admit that spending time with Mycroft is about as fun as spending time with Anderson, but unfortunately, he is still my brother, and with that comes certain responsibilities."

"Responsibilities?"

"Yes, it's up to me to tell him what a complete and utter arrogant _idiot_ he is. It's even more fun doing so when he's in the Diogenes Club. There are so many ways to communicate without actually using words." Sherlock was plotting something, judging by the wicked grin spreading on his face. "Are you coming?"

John didn't really want to go and watch the two brothers fight. He'd seen way too much fighting during his time in the Army. He knew that the brothers cared for each other deep down, but still, John had better things to do with his time than listen to their childish arguments. Like working out what Mycroft and Sherlock were arguing about _this_ time, for one thing. Even if he tagged along, the Holmes brothers were clever enough to continue arguing with John present and _still _not reveal any clues about what their argument was actually all about. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass this time."

Unless John was mistaken, Sherlock looked _relieved._ Didn't he want John's company after all? Was he only asking to be polite? Sherlock wasn't usually one for politeness, but John begrudgingly admitted that the detective_ had _been making some progress in this area recently. _You were right_, said a nagging little voice inside John's head. _He'd rather spend time with the skull than you._

"I'm leaving now, John." Sherlock's voice interrupted the one inside John's head, which he was grateful for. John began to marvel at how he had started an argument _with himself._ "Why don't you go and ask Mrs Hudson if she wants to watch television or something?" Sherlock spat the word 'television' as if the very idea deeply offended him.

"Yeah, might do." John murmured, but he wasn't really listening. He was worried that the others had been right all along, that Sherlock didn't have friends, and that the detective was getting bored of him. The doctor had been waiting for this to happen for some time, although acknowledging that it could actually be happening now made his stomach church. John was so consumed by his concern that he failed to hear Sherlock leave the flat.

As Sherlock sat in the back of a cab, on his way to visit his brother, he took a little time to leave his mind palace and concentrate on the emotions he was currently feeling. He seemed to be experiencing a mixture of worry and relief. He was worried because John was usually willing to go anywhere with him, with their destinations ranging from horrific crime scenes to breaking into top-secret military bases, and so Sherlock couldn't understand why John didn't want to go with him to see his brother. Mycroft wasn't _that _intimidating, was he? Sherlock could understand that his brother's hobby of kidnapping John could be quite irritating, but John didn't seem to mind too much, as long as Mycroft never _forced _him to do anything, as long as he was given a choice. Was John growing tired of Sherlock? The very idea made Sherlock's stomach churn, but the detective had often wondered how long it would be before John left him. On the other hand, Sherlock was relieved that John had declined his invitation. He wanted to know what Mycroft meant by his earlier comments regarding sentiment: "_After all, you have John for that_" and "_When are you both going to admit it to yourselves?_" Sherlock deduced that as his body was producing large amounts of adrenaline, he would be ready to ensure that Mycroft lived to regret his actions if his previous comments had been intended as threats towards John. Sherlock wouldn't let anything happen to John, even if the doctor _was_ tiring of him, but the cabbie interrupted his thought process before he could determine _why _he felt this way.

"'Ere you are, mate. The Diogenies Club." The cab came to a halt outside Mycroft's favourite residence.

"It's the _Diogenes _Club, not the Diogenies," corrected Sherlock as he paid the fare, stepped out onto the pavement, and then strode into the club. Mycroft's absence from the silent rooms disappointed Sherlock slightly. It looked like the brothers would have to continue arguing using words, rather than through the other ways Sherlock had been imagining. He had always wondered what it would be like to have an argument with Mycroft through mime, actions, or even physical fighting, in part because he was intrigued to see whether or not his brother would be willing to let go of his umbrella for that length of time. Sherlock found the Stranger's Room easily, having deduced that this would be where Mycroft was located if he was not in the silent rooms, and barged into the room without knocking.

Mycroft was seated as his desk, reading some paperwork whilst continuing to hold on to his umbrella. "Hello, dear brother. I was wondering how long it would be before you graced us with your presence," said Mycroft dryly, without even looking up. "That will be all, Anthea."

Sherlock waited as his brother's secretary absentmindedly bent down to pick up her coat and bag whilst continuing to text, and left the room.

"Explain." Sherlock demanded. "What did you mean?"

"You know exactly what I meant, otherwise you wouldn't be here." Mycroft leaned back in his armchair, gesturing for his younger brother to be seated in the spare seat opposite. Sherlock remained standing, and Mycroft sighed. "The only question is, what are you going to do about it?"

**Author's Note: I have realigned the text in the first chapter so that it is aligned to the left, rather than to the centre as it had been before, hopefully making it easier to read now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Apologies for the lengthy delay in updating this story!**

Sherlock's lengthy talk with Mycroft had proved to be..._enlightening _at the very least, and so the detective reluctantly spent the long cab journey back to 221B committing the conversation to his mind palace for future reference and analysis, something that he rarely did for talks with his brother. Some of the points raised, especially those regarding sentiment and Sherlock's capacity to experience it, had been so delightfully controversial that the detective had become engrossed in them, and had therefore blatantly ignored the incessant chiming of his phone as it was bombarded with text messages, calls and voicemails that demanded his attention. Now, as Sherlock finished processing the conversation, he extracted his phone from his jacket pocket and began to deal with the volume of information that he'd been inundated with.

Most of his texts were from John, which was to be expected as the doctor knew of Sherlock's preference for texting over calling. A couple of them were from Molly, but the detective deleted them immediately. There was no need for Sherlock to open and read them, because he knew that those messages would either contain unwelcome invitations for coffee, or reminders that there was a cadaver waiting for Sherlock to complete the final stages of his coagulation-of-saliva-after-death on in the morgue. The missed calls and voicemails were from Lestrade, which Sherlock suspected were pleas for assistance with a case on Anderson's behalf. His suspicion was soon confirmed upon opening the first text from John. He smirked at the contents.

_Lestrade just rang with a new case. It's been made to seem like a burglary gone wrong, but apparently the evidence doesn't add up. Anderson is utterly confused but refused point-blank to ask for help. Interested? JW_

_By the way, we really need to talk when you get home, Sherlock. Say hi to Mycroft for me, and ask if Anthea's okay after that nasty incident in France. JW_

_Don't pretend like you've actually obeyed the rules of The Diogenes Club and switched your phone off to be considerate to others. You never switch the damn thing off, so stop ignoring my texts. We can't all 'deduce' your responses, you know. JW_

_Fine. Change of plan. I'm stopping at Mike's tonight. No point in me staying at home to be ignored. You and I will definitely be having a talk when I get home though, Sherlock. JW_

Sherlock frowned, and his stomach began to churn. John thought he'd been ignoring him? That was a bit not good, wasn't it, especially after the things Mycroft and Sherlock had just talked about? The detective quickly typed a response, and awaited John's reply, trying to ignore the lump of apprehension forming in his throat.

**Why? SH**

Sherlock's phone bleeped a couple of minutes later, much to the detective's immediate relief, but then he frowned upon reading the contents of the text. Apparently John had been expecting some sort of explanation, but Sherlock doubted the doctor would believe him if he told the truth.

_Oh, so you're still alive then. Nice to know, even if I don't qualify to hear the reason behind your latest disappearing act. And I've already told you why I'm going to Mike's - I'm not staying at home for you to ignore me when there's somebody out there who'd appreciate my company. Don't you pay attention to anything I say unless it's about skulls? JW _

**I meant why do we need to have "a talk"? We're talking now, just tell me whatever it is and let me get back to what I was doing. SH**

_I know that you seem perfectly comfortable on talking to me when I'm not there, but I physically can't have the conversation with you now, and the fact that you don't understand why that is just emphasises how important it is that we have it when I get back. Switching phone off now, see you tomorrow. JW_

Sherlock didn't bother replying to that, because as soon as he had finished reading it, the cab pulled up outside 221B. In the hope of catching John before he left for Mike's, Sherlock sprung from the cab, threw a couple of twenty pound notes in the general direction of the driver, burst through the front door and bounded up the seventeen steps to their flat.

"John, I'm back!"

The butterflies in Sherlock's stomach went into overdrive as he realised that he was calling to an empty flat. John had already gone, and had left the detective behind, just as Sherlock had feared.

"I'm going to kill you, Mycroft!" he shouted, the cry echoing around the flat, even though Sherlock knew that John's absence wasn't his brother's fault, which made a change. Sherlock was the one who had chosen to go and confront Mycroft; his brother hadn't demanded his presence, kidnapped him, or coerced him in any way. Sherlock had nobody but himself to blame for John's departure, and he didn't even know what he'd done wrong. This was certainly not how the detective had imagined the day to progress, especially after what he'd discussed with Mycroft regarding John.


End file.
